


Riots of Love

by AvengersBarnes



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersBarnes/pseuds/AvengersBarnes
Summary: June 1969 - The streets of New York are on fire and the people are rioting. They only ever wanted the right to be themselves and love freely, without fear. Meanwhile, an angel and a demon look down on them from a nearby building. It can't be bad if it's in the name of love right?





	Riots of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first GOs fic ever but I had a great time writing it. I just couldn't get the idea of who would have created homophobia, heaven or hell? And well... this is the result. It was very fun exploring some new characters and challenging my writing style so yeah. Enjoy!

Aziraphale looked down onto the streets below. There were bricks flying and people hiding in the behind cars as the patrons of the small Inn began to fight back. He smiled softly down at his work from the roof of a nearby building.

He’d never quite understood why the homophobia had risen up within the humans. Historically they had always been open to the love within their hearts no matter what gender their love was, but somewhere along the line they had become filled with hate. It broke Aziraphale’s heart and finally in the middle of 1969 in New York City, the Angel decided that enough was enough. He was in the city for a different mission, he’d heard rumours that ‘The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter’ had been sighted somewhere in America and New York was the best place to start but he’d had no luck. So when he heard rumours that the police would be raiding a queer bar that evening, he couldn’t help but get involved. It didn’t require any miracles this time, just a suggestion in the ears of a few influential citizens that maybe they didn’t need to tolerate the raids, they didn’t have to hide their relationships and genders. 

The results were quite spectacular. The patrons of the Inn were finally pushing back against the police. They were fighting for their right to love and it was glorious. Heaven would be so proud of him. If his wings were in the earthly realm they would have bristled with pride but they were safely hidden in the celestial plane, away from any prying human eyes.

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s presence before he saw him. The demon slinked up behind him in his usual fashion and Aziraphale felt his traitorous heart beat faster as he inhaled Crowley’s distinct leathery scent. The air around him warmed by a couple of degrees, something Aziraphale had never quite gathered the confidence to ask about. It was either a demon thing, hellfire and all that, or it was a Crowley thing. He supposed being a cold-blooded serpent, Crowley would need a constant source of heat. Either way the angel couldn’t help but bask a little in the warmth. 

“Was this one of yours?” [1] Aziraphale asked his best friend, his only friend really.

“No. Not one of ours.” Crowley drawled as he joined Aziraphale on the wall. “Might take credit for it though. This is sure to go down a treat down there.” The demon nodded downwards. 

_[1] Aziraphale was of course talking about the rampant Homophobia that was plaguing humanity all across the world. Crowley on the other hand thought the Angel was talking about the riots. It was an easy mistake to make on the Demon’s part, blood and fighting were normally associated with Hell._

“Yes I suppose they would like that. I just cannot believe the humans would have thought it up on their own.” Aziraphale played with the cuff of his sleeve nervously. If humans could be so hateful without any demonic influence then he was really fighting a loosing battle. 

“Well they were responsible for the French revolution. What’s a little rioting compared to that?” Crowley smirked and raised his eyebrow. Aziraphale’s head snapped up and he stared at his friend in shock.

“Sorry what did you say?” He stuttered. What in Heaven did Crowley mean about the riots and why would he want to take credit for that? That was Aziraphale’s work, a heavenly intervention, nothing Hell would be impressed with unless the angel had severely miscalculated. It wouldn’t be the first time. He started to panic. Gabriel had already emphatically told him if he made anymore mistakes then he would be posted back in Heaven on filing duty. He hated filing duty. After the business with the flaming sword he’d been posted in the back offices for almost two decades. 

“I said what’s a little rioting compared to that? What’s gotten into you Angel? You look like you’ve seen old Lucie himself.” Crowley scowled behind his dark glasses that masked his serpent-like eyes. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale breathed as his brained went into overdrive. He was going to fall for this. He’d started a riot in New York, he was doing Satan’s work without Crowley having to even ask. This was it. He was doomed. The almighty would never forgive him.

“Angel, are you alright?” Crowley’s hand was on his shoulder spinning him round so that he was facing the demon full on, the touch almost burning him through his clothes, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. He found the heat grounding in a way a fellow angel’s touch never was. 

“I wasn’t talking about the riots Crowley.” He whispered, staring at his feet and just waiting for the hole in the ground to open up. 

Crowley’s long finger tucked under his chin, causing a spark of electricity through his body, and lifted Aziraphale’s head so that the angel couldn’t avoid the demon’s gaze. He barely repressed the shiver in his spine and if anyone asked he would deny it vehemently. Even through the dark glasses Aziraphale could see the emotions swirling in the demon’s eyes. He could feel the concern radiating from his friend’s body. 

“Aziraphale…” Crowley started to say but he cut himself off and turned abruptly back to the streets. “You don’t mean to tell me that all of this.” He gestured wildly to the streets below, limbs going in all directions. “All this was you?”

“Umm… Well not exactly. You see… Well. I didn’t use any miracles. It is completely plausible that the humans thought it up on their own and I didn’t exactly tell them to riot.” Aziraphale spluttered, trying to think of a way to make it seem better than it was. 

“Uh huh.” Crowley peered over the edge of the wall, his upper body tipped so far over the edge that Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure how he was still standing upright. “So what did you say?”

“I told them it was not a sin to love each other. I told them they shouldn’t have to put up with it. It’s not right.” Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. “Why would your lot be happy about more love in the world anyway?”

“It’s easier to tempt the humans if they aren’t repressing their lust for each over now isn’t it?” The demon smirked. “It will be like Rome all over again. You remember the Romans?”

“Yes yes of course. Not that I ever, participated but I was aware of what was going on. Didn’t you get a commendation for that one?” Aziraphale blushed at the memories, the Romans were certainly an adventurous bunch and enjoyed Lust far more than any human should. Aziraphale was not sure whether that was entirely his demon’s fault, but Crowley had certainly taken credit for it. 

“Can’t remember. Probably. They adore me downstairs. So what _were_ you talking about anyway?” Crowley leaned back in towards him, so close that Aziraphale could feel the heat of his breath, the glow of his demon’s aura pressed up against his own. He even felt a ghost of Crowley’s black wings brushing against his white ones and this time he couldn’t stop the shiver that fluttered down his spine. 

“I… umm….” He spluttered.

“Yes Angel?”

“The homophobia” He managed to spit out as he took a step back away from his friend. “I was talking about the homophobia.”

“I thought that was your lot?” Crowley laughed in astonishment. 

“It was most certainly not. How could even think of such a thing?” Aziraphale gaped at his friend’s assessment. Crowley knew him better than that surely.

“It’s what they’re saying isn’t it? Man shall not lie with man… and all that. They say you go to Hell for it.” Crowley grinned mischievously. 

“Which is why I thought it was your lot?! Why would angels, beings of love, be against the right to love each other? It doesn’t make any sense Crowley!” Aziraphale pouted at the demon, he was hurt that the demon could think so poorly of him. 

“Yes well it’s your lot that kicked my lot out of heaven, and don’t think I don’t remember the flood? Your lot killed the unicorn! Genocide that was! Beings of love, yeah right.” Crowley’s serpent eyes were almost glowing through the dark lenses and his red hair was starting to flame at the ends. 

“And what is that supposed to mean Demon?” Aziraphale, despite all his instincts, took a step closer to Crowley. The heat washed over him and his own hair began to shine a little brighter in response to the demon’s power. 

“You wouldn’t know love if it hit you in the face.” Crowley sneered, his body was now pushed up against Aziraphale’s, the riot in the street below them completely forgotten. 

Aziraphale later would not be able to tell you why he reacted the way he did. In all honesty it was a bit of a blur. He had meant to snap back in some self-righteous and heavenly way that angels were the very definition of love and that was in fact why they had been created in the first place. What actually occurred was something very different indeed. Aziraphale grabbed onto the lapels of Crowley’s jacket and pulled the demon towards him. Their lips met in a crash of fireworks, quite literally it was truly miraculous [2] but the moment was over as quickly as it began as the angel suddenly came to his senses. He pushed the demon away almost as suddenly as he had kissed him and bolted to the other side of the roof.

_[2] neither were quite sure whose fault that was but Crowley decided to take credit either way. It made the whole moment rather special he thought._

“I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again. Anyway… Is that the time? Must dash I have a heavenly intervention that needs to be done back in London by the end of the week. Gabriel was really quite insistent.” He spouted off, looking anywhere but at Crowley, who, if Aziraphale dared to look, was staring at the angel like he had hung the stars. 

“Angel…” Crowley whispered softly as he reached out to take the blond’s hand but Aziraphale was gone, miracled away and out of reach, leaving a torn up demon in his wake. 

* * *

Aziraphale hadn’t gone far. He was, in fact, only a few metres away, laterally speaking. He was sitting in a ball in the alleyway next to the rooftop where the demon was stood staring into the empty space that the angel had just been inhabiting. His bright white wings had burst into view as he slid down the wall in shame. He had just enough sense left to make sure the humans wouldn’t see him as he shielded his face behind his wings. They formed a protective bubble around his body as he tried to process what had just happened. If he was being completely honest with himself, the reason he had summoned his wings was to check for any signs of grey within the feathers.

He had kissed a demon.

He had given in to his biggest temptation.

And yet he was still an angel and he couldn’t for the life of him work out how.

“You wouldn’t know love if it hit you in the face.” Crowley’s words echoed back to him and the angel felt the earth shake beneath his feet. 6000 years of conversations and clandestine meetings flashed before his eyes. The way his heart raced at the sound of Crowley’s voice. The way he would do anything just to see the redhead smile. The way he adored the way his eyes showed every hidden emotion when he took those damned glasses off. The way the demon’s miracles always felt so much better than his own, despite the fact that he was the angel. The way he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer when he knew he should leave. Oh and the books… he should have known in that moment. Crowley saved his books and Aziraphale could do nothing but stare longingly after the demon’s retreating figure. How could he have been so blind? 

Aziraphale groaned and buried his face in his hands, his wings fading away back into the celestial plane. He had fallen in love with a demon. How very Shakespearean of him. 

“Fuck.” He cursed and the gravity of the situation hit him. He was, after all, well and truly fucked. 

* * *

“Shit shit shit shit!” Crowley spun round on his heels and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling harder than was strictly necessary. “Gah!” He screamed out, words failing him like they so often did.

Aziraphale was gone and it was almost certainly all Crowley’s fault. Aziraphale had told him explicitly that he went too fast for the angel, so obviously Crowley’s first instinct was to push harder. Why did have to be so stupid? This was why he wasn’t allowed nice things. Everything he touched burnt in Hell, quite literally, and he was sure Aziraphale would be no different. 

And that was unacceptable. 

His angel was not allowed to fall. 

Crowley would not allow it. He had to stop the arrangement, it was the only way, stop any further temptations and demonic interventions by the angel. Maybe he could even throw a few lost souls his way, Aziraphale loved a redemption and what Hell didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He had the Holy Water tucked safely away in his flat in case they ever did notice. Meanwhile, Crowley would make even more obvious attempts to be wiley and Aziraphale would have to thwart him, it’s not Crowley’s fault that he is a terrible demon [3]. He just didn’t have the same knack for evil that his fellow demon’s did, he always blamed Sloth and sheer laziness. He was a demon after all, he was meant to play with the Sins. 

_[3] Or perhaps I should say… a good demon? Crowley was correct, it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. He is exactly how he is supposed to be but that is another story all together._

“Crawley!” A sharp voice snapped the redhead from his angel-fuelled crisis. Crowley felt every inch of his corporation crawl with disgust as he recognised the other demon’s presence. He put on a smirk and turned to face his old companion. 

“Hastur!” He bowed dramatically to the frog like blond. “How can I be of sservice oh Duke of Hell?” He hissed for added effect but the blond was not impressed, he never was. 

“What’s all this about? Lord Dagon is working overtime trying to keep up with the files. You never do what you’re supposed to Crawley.” Hastur gestured to the rioting below. “A quick temptation and seduction of the mayor. That was your mission. None of this… whatever this is?” 

“Rioting Hastur. It must have been around last time you were here. Don’t tell me you missssed the French Revolution! I got a commendation for that one and everything!” Crowley smirked, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. Just where was the blasted angel anyway? Crowley could feel him, he was still nearby, he could always feel the angel’s aura when he was close. 

“I know you did. Funny how you weren’t even in France when the revolution began though isn’t it? I’ll suppose you’ll take credit for this one too?” Hastur sneered at him and Crowley felt a spike of adrenaline course through his veins, a stupid human reaction to danger, for Hastur was indeed dangerous. 

“Oh no. Not at all.” He replied nonchalantly in a way that was sure to rile up the froggy demon. “This one is a work of God. I wouldn’t take credit for that.” Crowley narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. 

“You’re lying!” Hastur hissed at him.

“A fight for the right to love. Even I wouldn’t sssstoop that low, oh grand Duke of Hell.” Crowley put a hand of his hip and raised an eyebrow at his colleague. 

“I’m watching you Crawley… Don’t forget that!” He snarled as he melted back into the roof to descend to Hell. 

“Not bloody likely.” Crowley hissed after him. “And It’s Crowley… you know that. Basstard!” [4]

_[4] This is not… strictly true. Angels, and by extension, demons, do not have parents, nor do they get married. They simple exist. Therefore they cannot be, in the traditional sense of the word, bastards. However, Crowley was also not entirely wrong. Hastur was indeed a bastard, most demons are._

Crowley slid off the roof and landed silently in the streets below, easily dodging the punches and bricks that were flying past him, a nearby policeman wasn’t so lucky. Crowley could have stopped it but he wasn’t feeling particularly good at that particular time. He did however, accidentally of course, snap the handcuffs on a transgender prisoner that the police were trying to escort away. Escaping prisoners were bad right? 

He snuck inside of the bar, Stonewall Inn, and slithered onto a barstool that had miraculously not been destroyed yet. Around him the patrons of the bar suddenly found that luck had turned in their favour, the police were struggling to contain their prisoners and the fight outside on the street was turning into a spectacle that would almost certainly turn change the course of human history and Crowley would forever deny his involvement. He was already in Hell’s bad books, the good kind, not the bad bad kind. He didn’t need any favours right now and his angel had been so proud of his little angelic intervention. Crowley got himself a glass of scotch and settled in to enjoy the chaos around him. It might have been for the sake of heaven but he did always enjoy a good riot. 

“I thought I might find you here.” Aziraphale’s chocolatey scent washed over him like the morning sun. 

“Hello angel.” Crowley turned to face the blond and was, as he always was, blinded by his beauty. 

The explosions on the street were lighting up the angel’s hair like the halo that was hidden away with his wings. His eyes today were a soft pale corn blue colour, with tiny golden specks. Crowley wondered if that’s where Aziraphale’s angelic marks were, within his eyes. No matter what colour they turned, chocolate brown, emerald green, corn flower blue… they always had tiny golden specks. Crowley just adored the angel’s eyes but they had nothing on his smile. Crowley had spent almost 6 millennia trying to make his angel smile, nothing too obvious, just the odd miracle hear or there when requested. 

He honestly hadn’t anticipated Hamlet becoming an overnight sensation, he just wanted it not to flop. He supposed that he may have gotten a little carried away but the look on Aziraphale’s face every time a new production came out was a little slice of heaven that Crowley so desperately yearned for and so every opening night Aziraphale would find tickets in his coat pocket and they would discuss the play in great depth over wine that evening. Aziraphale had become most disappointed when heckling the audience had fallen out of fashion, and so the pantomime was born, a little Christmas treat for his favourite angel. Aziraphale never failed to cheerfully cry ‘he’s behind you!’ at the hero to help him thwart the dastardly villain. Crowley was particular fond of the amount of mess the young children caused in the auditorium, it caused so much wrath in the theatre staff that Hell hadn’t noticed his primary objective. It was fool proof really. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be back in London?” Crowley asked as he gazed at the angel next to him. Aziraphale blushed a beautiful rose pink, like the portraits of cherubs that hung in the galleries. Crowley wondered if it had been Aziraphale’s likeness that were based upon. He was probably biased but he preferred the real thing, much less self righteous and smitey.

“Oh yes… well. Umm…Change of plans you see. Turns out the job was far more suited to Michael. Very… smitey. Not really my scene.” Aziraphale stuttered. He was so easily flustered, poor angel. “I prefer the interventions and miracles. Nothing quite like a good blessing to make you feel all tingly.”

“You know something angel?” Crowley inched his face closer to the blond’s, so close he could feel the heat of his skin and the tips of their noses almost pressed together.

“Something…yes. Lots of things really.” Aziraphale kept looking down at the bar and back up at him. It was ever so enticing to the demon. 

“Lying is a sssin.” Crowley hissed as he took the angel’s hands in his. They were hot, any contact between them always felt like fire burning under Crowley’s skin. The serpent in him couldn’t get enough of the heat and the fire, he wondered whether the angel could feel it too. 

“Mm not lying.” Aziraphale mumbled. 

“Oh you are. You’re lying. There was no mission was there angel? You just wanted to get away from me. A nasty demon seducing an angel, what would old Gabriel say to that?” 

“I told you. You…” 

“Go too fast I know.” Crowley dropped Aziraphale’s hands in an instant. He was pushing too hard again. One kiss and all his self control had flown out the window apparently. He sat back on his bar stool and relished in the cool air between them “But you came back. You got away clean but you came back.”

“Well, it was awfully rude of me to disappear like that. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, even if you are the enemy.” Aziraphale sat up stiffly and dusted off the lapels of his jacket, always so prim and proper. It drove Crowley mad, he was always so concerned by what other people thought of him. That’s part of the reason they got drunk together so often, it was the only time Aziraphale forgot that they were meant to be sworn enemies and they could be together in peace. 

“Oh come now Aziraphale. We’re at the very least frenemies. I thought maybe even friends…” Crowley tilted his head and smiled at the ethereal being next to him. Not the smirk he graced Hastur with but a genuine, heart felt, smile. 

“Friends?” Aziraphale looked almost disappointed but shook it off before Crowley could take much notice. He probably imagined it anyway, he did have an extraordinarily good imagination. “Quite. Don’t let _Them_ hear you say that though.” Aziraphale glanced upwards.

“Obviously, they’ll never know.” Crowley agreed softly. “We should probably get out of here? It’s getting a bit messy.”

“Yes… back to mine for some wine? I’ve got a rather exquisite bordeaux in the cupboards. I’d hate to drink it alone.” Aziraphale asked with a sparkle in his eyes and Crowley’s breath caught in his throat, sure he didn’t need to breathe but he’d got into the habit sometime in the 3000s BC but one look and the demon had completely forgotten how. 

“I thought I was supposed to be the tempter?” Crowley grinned as he took the angel’s hand and pulled him to his feet. The waltzed out of the burning inn without so much as a hair out of place, one of Aziraphale’s little miracles, Crowley assumed. 

“Oh you, wiley old serpent.” The angel laughed, and Crowley had found Heaven on earth. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I'm on tumblr @avengersbarnes. It's currently a bit of a multi fandom mess with MCU, GO, Doctor Who and whatever else takes my fancy but it's mine and I love it :D


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